A Woman of Surprising Substance
by Alchemist Experiment
Summary: The world hadn't ended when her husband left it only felt as though it had.


-1_Disclaimer: No characters are mine, I'm making no money off of this._

**A Woman Of Surprising Substance**

"Your father will be so proud of you when he gets home! Now wash up for dinner, or it'll cold."

Trisha Elric twisted the damp washrag in her hands, squeezing out the last of the water before setting it aside. It was growing more and more difficult to say the words 'when your father gets home'. Even the most hopeful of hearts began waning after so many years. And all it took was one look in Edward's eyes to know that he had lost all faith whatsoever in a patriarchal return. A part of her couldn't really blame him.

_Well, you never know_, she thought to herself. Fading hope didn't mean _loss_ of hope. There was always the chance that he'd come home, whenever he'd finished what it was he needed to do. One day she would wake up to the door opening and heavy boots in the hallway. One day he'd return. And, if he didn't…

"Edward, I can tell you didn't wash your hands. How do you boys manage to get so dirty!" She had Edward and Alphonse. What mother could ask for a better pair of boys? They were bright shining lights in an empty and troubled time. Even Edward, with his temper and his anger and his sullen fits was warm and loving and full of life. She smiled as she ran a damp cloth over Ed's hands, wiping away the grime and grit of a day spent outside.

"Mo-om," Ed whined, rolling his eyes. "I can do it myself!"

"I should hope so, you're nine years old. But you don't want your dinner to get cold, do you? Besides, this is what mothers are for."

She hadn't thought she'd be able to do it, that first year alone. Alphonse had been so tiny and Edward had been so angry and every night brought no comfort but an empty bed. There had seemed to be a dozen new things that needed doing with every passing day, and the smallest things turned into disasters. When Al caught a cold at age three that turned into a fever, Trisha had fallen apart. It had been the hardest thing to do, to sit by his bedside as he shook and coughed and grew damp with sweat. But she had, tight with fear and red eyed from exhaustion and weak from keeping the house between. If it hadn't been for the Rockbells…

Alphonse had recovered as though he'd never been ill. And as his strength slowly returned, Trisha had felt hers coming back as well. She realized that this wasn't a summer storm that would pass in moment's time. And there was a house to keep and two boys to raise and crisis' would come and go. The world didn't stop because her husband was gone, as much as it had felt that way for a time. And how many women were there who had no hope of seeing their men again? At least there was that small comfort, though it did nothing to keep Trisha warm at night.

"Mom? Are you okay?"

"Hmm?" Trisha smiled in a distracted way at Al, aware that she hadn't touched her dinner nor spoken. "Oh, I was just thinking about how much you've grown!" she exclaimed, her smile brightening. She ignored Ed's penetrating gaze, too heavy and knowing for a boy of his age.

"I'm bigger than Ed!" Al said cheerfully, earning a glare from his brother. Al's growth spurt had put him taller than his older brother, something which never went un-remarked upon in arguments.

"You take after your father," Trisha said without thinking. But Al did, there was no sense in denying it. When he was older she imagined that the resemblance would be uncanny. And in some ways she was glad that it was Al and not Ed who held that physical resemblance.

"Do I?" Al was pleased. Ed wouldn't have been, Trisha would have had to be blind and dumb to mistake the seething hatred in Ed's eyes whenever their father was mentioned. Ed needn't look in the mirror and be reminded of the man he held such a resentment for. But that would pass, Trisha was certain of it. Ed was still so young and couldn't understand these things. All he knew was that his father had _left_. And no words Trisha had could smooth that over or heal the wounds. All she could do was smile and encourage and wait.

"You do. When he comes home…"

"Mom." Ed's voice was low. Trisha sighed and set down her fork, turning her eyes to her elder son. His eyes were downcast and his hair fallen into his face to obscure it. "Your dinner's gone cold," was all Ed said.

"Oh my! So it has." Trisha laughed, but inwardly she cringed. It had been a long time since she'd sat and let her food grow cold, unable to eat or lost in her own thoughts. "And here I was so busy making sure you two ate up before that happened!" It was so much easier these days to offer excuses and avoid the questions she had no answers for.

"It's alright," Trisha went on. "I wasn't very hungry anyway. There's a reason I don't let you two snack too much before dinner." She didn't feel like eating anyway. Her stomach had been giving her trouble the past few weeks, and another night of stomach cramps wasn't a pleasant thought.

"Can I be excused?"

"Of course you can, Ed. Clean up after yourself, though, and no more playing outside. It's going to be dark soon."

Ed took her plate away as well, silently and deliberately. More and more often Trisha caught him doing small things around the house, always with a look of serious concentration. He was trying to be the man of the household, something which brought a smile to Trisha's face. She didn't have the heart to tell him that she didn't need a man, she'd lived so long without one and grown comfortable in running the house by herself. But it made him happy, and he always had been more grown up than usual for his age.

"Someday, you're going to make some pretty girl a very lucky wife!" Trisha said, placing her hand on Edward's wrist as he took her plate away.

"Mo-om!" he groaned, rolling his eyes as Alphonse laughed.

"Well it's true," Trisha said, pushing herself up from the table. "You both are."

"I'm going to marry Winry!" Al exclaimed, and Trisha laughed. It was warm and sincere, and her doubts and fears melted away as she watched her two boys.

"No you're not," Ed snapped. "I am. You have to find some other girl."

"But she likes me better!"

"Does not!"

Trisha supposed she should stop them before the argument got serious, but she couldn't bring herself to. They were loud and boisterous and alive, and they filled the house better than a family of ten could have.

Her husband may have been gone - perhaps never to return - but Trisha was a lucky woman even so. She had her home and her boys and the satisfaction at the end of the day that both were well cared for and flourishing under her hand. And _that_ was something that kept her warm at night.


End file.
